A Gift for a Lotus
by Femme Bono
Summary: Years past the Deathly Hallows and final battle, a couple find that their old way of life held nothing and a new way of life begins on all fronts. Rated for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A Gift for a Lotus**

Cht. 1

Have you ever noticed how some of the seemingly insignificant things in life can lead to huge changes and climactic moments? Lucius Malfoy, to his credit, had never had any reason to question the workings of fate or irony in his life prior to that autumn day. He had never been given reason to appreciate the subtlety of serendipity. Sadly, he had fallen into a predictable life full of duty and expectation. He had gone to the right school, been sorted to the right house, married the right girl, produced the heir, and done his job. He liaised with the Minister and top board officials. He subscribed to the modes of thinking that reflected the times, and because of this he landed in prison.

His time in Azkaban reduced all those years of civic duty and familial obligation to naught. What made most people crazy in Azkaban was the complete loss of their happy memories. Once they had drained away, people lost themselves in depression never to return to the fullness of mind they had had. In Lucius' case, he realized that he had no such memories to lose, save one. And the only reason he never lost it was because it was not truly happy, but bittersweet.

When Draco was around five years-old, Lucius had stepped out onto the veranda to see his son flying nearly ten metres in the air on a broomstick which he knew should go only two. Somehow, the little boy had bewitched it to go higher than it should. Lucius found himself torn between paternal pride that his son's ability was strong enough to alter a powerful magical binding and irritation that the little tyke was doing something he knew he shouldn't.

When the broom tipped, and Draco spilled over its handle onto the ground, Lucius simply set his mouth in a firm line and stepped off the veranda to deal with his errant son. Draco, meanwhile, had set up a wail and cradled an apparently twisted ankle. Lucius crouched down next to the mewling child, fully prepared to deliver a terse lecture when the boy launched himself into his father's lap, knocking him onto his bum and surely soiling a brand new pair of trousers. For a moment, Lucius held onto Draco whose tiny arms circled his neck in a death grip. It was this moment that he clung to in prison, every bit as much as his son had clung to him for comfort. That one memory kept him sane, and moreover had him re-evaluating his entire life. By the time Lucius Malfoy was released from prison, he found himself clinging tighter to his family-at least to Draco.

Halfway through his incarceration, he was reminded of the ancient magic that was woven through the marital vows of older families. He was awakened in the middle of the night by a sharp twang as though something magical had sprung loose. He rose up on in his cot as a light filled the room and the family patronus, a regal falcon, appeared in a strange bluish glow.

"Your wife has been found in a position of reproach. She has not remained faithful to the name of Malfoy, and as such, your marriage has summarily been dissolved."

It was in this way that he found that Narcissa had cheated. It was this news which weighed on his mind after his release, during the whole nasty year when the Dark Lord was housed in his own home, when he and his family needed each other most. They formed a necessary alliance in order to "just get through this" as they constantly referred to it amongst each other.

However, by the time the Dark Lord fell, the group that sat huddled together in the Great Hall of Hogwarts barely resembled a family. Shortly thereafter, when the subject of Narcissa's transgression was finally broached, there was not even enough heat left to summon an argument. She agreed to a settlement, part of which included their old vacation home in Majorca.

Shortly after Greg Goyle was released from prison, he and Draco rented a flat above Diagon Alley so Draco could pursue an apprenticeship in healing. He had taken to the idea of specialising in spell damage and removing hexes. He spoke to his father, always civilly, perhaps once a month. Goyle, on the other hand, secured a job at Borgin and Burkes working the stock room.

And so, three years after his incarceration, Lucius Malfoy found himself living in a marble floored home that more closely resembled a tomb. The labyrinthine passages of Malfoy Manor seemed impossible to heat and the silence felt almost palpable at times. He found himself shuffling through the dimly lit halls, stopping to talk to portraits. It was this very habit which had him shaking a head at himself and grimly grabbing his cloak and crunching over the frosty ground to the apparition point just outside his gates. Time to get out more, he told himself.

With that thought in mind, he headed into Borgin and Burkes, uttering a brisk hello to Greg who was in the shop window setting up a display, and rapped his ring on the counter for service. Alaric Carrows came out from the curtain at the back of the shop and stepped up to the register where Malfoy waited.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," he smiled diffidently. "It's not often we see you out and about."

"Not often enough, I suppose. How are you?"

"Well enough, well enough. And you, sir?"

"Getting on. Now Carrows, about those embarrassing items, which we discussed."

"Ah yes. I have to admit to getting mixed results with them. One has not been responding to a thing I do, and I've tried everything I know to remove any hexes. Though I'll admit to you, it is a nasty piece of work. The other, mind, has been much more cooperative shall we say. You can take it home today in fact."

"And the first, what do you recommend with it?"

"Normally, I'd chance trying to destroy it as best I could. Yet there may be another way."

"Do tell."

"Well, as it happens, that middle Weasley child who works for the Ministry is now in the Department of Histories and Antiquities. He was in here just the other day asking about dark artifacts for an exhibit at the new museum that will be breaking ground shortly. I may be able to broker a deal for you, for that and any other items you may find. I'm sure this item would fetch you a hefty sum for such a bidder."

Lucius gave barely a passing though to the withered, grisly looking hand before answering. "Fine. Get rid of it then. And I'll see what else there may be around the house."

"Wise choice, sir. I'll knock him up and see what price I can get out of him on the company dime."

"Very well. And the other?"

"Ready to go, sir," he said, reaching under the counter and sliding a box across to Malfoy's waiting hand.

"Well done. You'll bill my account for it." It wasn't a question, but the younger man nodded accordingly. With that, Lucius nodded to the clerk and left the store. He had barely gotten steps away from the entrance when he was waylaid by a feminine voice.

"Why it's Lucius Malfoy!"

"Yes?" he turned, a hesitant smile on his face. He could not quite place the voice until he spotted her.

Darienne Yaxley, a coquettish finger tracing a strand of hair at the curve of her neck, sidled up to him looking like the cat with a belly full of cream.

"Lucius! It's been ages," she said, lifting her hand for him to bring to his lips.

"Entirely too long," he said, his smile now forced. He felt it sliding off like wax, entirely too tired of pretenses and the whole silly dance of manners and etiquette. "If you'll excuse me, it may well be even longer before we can visit. I do have pressing matters to which I must attend."

Feeling that should suffice for an abrupt departure, Lucius bowed stiffly and turned away, leaving a completely baffled woman stammering, "perhaps later then" to his retreating form.

As he rushed away, promising himself a stiff drink in the Leaky Cauldron, Lucius rounded a corner only to run headlong into a very small someone. The small box was jarred from his hands and he was nearly knocked off balance, but righted himself just in time. Regaining his composure, he noted several things simultaneously. The first was a small Asian girl sitting in a heap at his feet with tears welling up in her eyes. The box had landed in the gutter, discarding its glittering contents on the cobblestone. Rushing feet and a melodious voice coming to a stop at the little girl.

"Mei Lien? Are you okay?" the woman crouched down at the child who was still staring back up at him, tears now spilling over onto rounded cheeks. "It's okay, dearest. We'll get you fixed up at once. I promise."

Then she tipped her gaze up to him, an apology dying on her lips as she realized who the child ran into. "I'm sorry, sir. She- Mr. Malfoy…" His own moment of recognition came barely seconds after hers.

"Miss Granger." For surely it was. It was staggering to think of the change that had taken place to the girl over the years. He had seen her barely a handful of times through her childhood and had noted the difference in her teeth from one meeting to the next, but now, here the child had shed her cocoon and fully blossomed into womanhood. More, the bushy unkempt hair of her youth had finally been tamed into sleek chestnut ringlets that were infinitely more becoming. Truly the difference was staggering.

Shifting his gaze back to the sniffling child, he smoothed his features and offered a hand. "And you child, Mei Lien is it?" She nodded uncertainly and he noticed Miss Granger put a protective hand on the child's shoulder.

"Now I may snarl, but I do not bite," he said, smiling winningly at the child. "Any longer," he added, with a glance to the woman staring dumbfounded at the display. "Now, let's see those hands. You hit the ground quite hard, didn't you?"

She nodded again, more vigorously this time, and set her pigtails dancing. Mei Lien sniffed once and held up both palms, which had been scraped on the pavement. Lucius pulled out his wand and muttered both a soothing and cleansing charm over them before conjuring a couple of bandages for good measure.

"I believe a nice mug of cocoa would fix it all, don't you?"

"Oh yes, please!" she cried. All reservations about him gone, she wrapped her chubby arms around his neck and linked her little legs around his waist as he rose up. She looked over her shoulder at Miss Granger, standing cross-armed on the sidewalk with a look of utter confusion and complete bafflement on her face. "Can we Mum?"

"Sure," she choked out. "Of course. Fine."

"Come along, Miss Granger," he said stiffly, memories of all their prior meetings churning through him. Perhaps in some small way he could begin to put all that right. "You look as though you could use one too."

With that, he led the way to Florean Fortescue's.


	2. Chapter 2

Cht. 2

Hermione Granger jogged to catch up to the apparently enamoured pair, having stopped to scoop up the forgotten parcel with the box lid and place it ever so carefully back into the velvet lined box. Lucius' long strides ate up the pavement even as Mei Lien chattered merrily at him from her perch on his shoulders. She stopped talking every so often to swat at the shop signs as they passed, each tap punctuated by an all too masculine chuckle from Malfoy. Hermione thought distractedly that she'd never once heard the man laugh, yet here he was bouncing her little girl over the cobblestone walk amid the frank stares of passers by. They too, it seemed, had never seen the ex-Death Eater having such fun.

Finally, upon reaching their destination, Lucius swung the little girl down and sat her on the counter as he ordered, neither of them taking notice of the attendant who looked aghast at the pair of them. As Hermione approached, Mei Lien tugged on Lucius' lapel and asked if she could have hers with whipped cream and cherry on top.

"Oh but of course, you must," Hermione heard him say. He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "especially with chocolate sprinkles. They're the best."

Mei Lien giggled and Hermione cleared her throat. "Oh there you are, Miss Granger," he said, straightening up and looking round at her. "Where have you been?"

"You, erm, dropped this," she answered, holding the box out. "I didn't touch it… obviously," she finished lamely.

"It wouldn't matter if you had," he replied dryly earning a scowl from Hermione, who bit back a retort. Better to ignore it than create a scene in front of Mei Lien, she thought.

"Can I see what's in the box?" Mei Lien piped up.

"No!" was Hermione's shocked reply, even as Lucius opened the box and offered it for the child's perusal. Lucius merely quirked a brow at her mother and scowled darkly.

"Any hexes have been removed, Miss Granger. I assure you it is quite safe-which is what I meant, by the way."

"Oh," she replied, feeling discomfited. She was saved by the attendant appearing with their chocolates and spent the next moment studiously ignoring their benefactor whilst tucking a napkin into Mei Lien's collar and draping one over her lap. "Can't be too careful," she said, dabbing a spot of whipped cream on Mei Lien's nose and kissing it. Remembering Mr. Malfoy, she looked up to see an almost wistful look that was quickly erased.

She dropped into the chair next to Mei Lien and sat back to surreptitiously study the man who was watching her little girl lapping at the edge of the cup as the melting cream dripped down the sides.

"So what is it that brings you out and about today, Hermione? I may call you that, mayn't I?" he said, turning to survey her as closely as she had him. On meeting his direct gaze, Hermione dropped her eyes.

"Sure, that's fine, erm…Lucius." His given name felt strange on her tongue and somehow forbidden. "We were just-"

"Mum's looking for a job!" Mei Lien interjected. "A new one, where they appricate-apparat…"

"Appreciate her?" queried an amused Lucius.

"Yes, you got it!" she smiled. "They let her go, her last job. Shame on them, so now we have to move."

"Shame on them indeed," smiled Mr. Malfoy as he glanced across the table to Mei Lien's mother who sat flushing, clearly flustered.

Hermione sat, silently steaming at the mockery and cursing him with every name she could think…in her head. How dare he, she thought. Likely as not, he had never worked a day in his life.

No sooner had she begun it, but Malfoy cut into her fantasy of clawing out his eyes. "You know, you may be just the person I need."

"Sorry?" she managed. Need her? Was he joking, she wondered. It was hard to say with him, and he seemed to be taking utter amusement in seeing her so clearly wrong footed.

"Yes," he replied, smiling broadly. "I have a matter of some urgency. There are many things I own which require expertise such as yours."

"My expertise?"

"Certainly you have in recent years proven yourself in the arena of hex-breaking, handling dark objects," he said, gesturing to the box on the table. "And moreover, you are Muggleborn, which in itself makes dark objects of a certain kind…react, shall we say, to you."

"I don't quite follow."

"The current political climate frowns upon old families hanging onto certain heirlooms and artifacts which contain anti-Muggle charms and dark enchantments. Many such old families wanting to hang onto their valuables find themselves in a quandary. They want to hang onto such items, yet to do so at this time is illegal. Likewise it is illegal to sell them-with possible exception of selling to museums and the like, so a market for one such as yourself has been opened. By removing the old hexes and traps, the families will be at leisure to do what they will with them. Either keep them for sentimental or historical value or sell to the highest bidder."

"And what do you own that is imbued with such hexes and traps?"

"My home."

"Your…" Hermione trailed off, thinking of the salon where she had been detained in his "home" and shuddered in spite of herself. Seeing her reaction, he broke into her thoughts.

"I have had some success, with the sitting room in particular, but I confess myself more capable of casting such spells than of removing them," he said, looking honestly chagrined. "Never mind the fact that it is quite a large home."

"You have a big house?" Mei Lien cut in. "Do you have horses?"

"Horses?" Lucius smiled, "I have a stable on the grounds that breeds Abraxans. They're _humongous_. You should see them."

"Oh Mum, can we? Take the job, please!"

"Mei Lien, really!" she cried, thoroughly exasperated at Lucius' manipulation of the little girl. "And what of her safety? With such dark objects and enchantments on the grounds, how could you vouch for her remaining unharmed?"

"Is she pureblood?" he asked, earning a raised brow in return.

"Yes, in fact, she is," replied Hermione tersely. "In China it is not their blood status that is frowned upon, but their gender. Her family did not want her because she was a girl," she finished sotto voce.

"Ever the champion for the underdog," Malfoy replied in kind, an amused gleam in his eye as he crossed his arms on the table and leaned in. "In either case, she will be no more in danger than Draco was at that age. She'll be told, of course, what she may touch and what not. She seems to be a well-mannered child who listened to what she's told. If she is not in my company or yours, she will simply be required to stay in your rooms or Draco's old playroom."

"Playroom?" Mei Lien cried, tuning in again.

"Our rooms?" Hermione asked, focusing on the other bit of information.

"Yes, there is a small flat of sorts on the grounds, separate from my living quarters of course." It stung slightly to see that this news comforted her a bit. "I would be willing to offer you a small stipend, say twelve thousand galleons, in addition to the room and board. It would be a more than fair price for the job at hand."

It did sound reasonable, Hermione considered. The sum was slightly less than she had made in a year's time at her last job, conducting research at St. Mungo's before her grant had expired. Without having to pay to let, she could bulk up her savings again and live comfortably besides. Still, because it was Malfoy she wondered what the catch was.

"There's nothing suspect, Hermione," he said somewhat bracingly. "Though I must warn you that the dungeons are off limits to you and the child." The fact that he said this with none of the chill she was used to from him helped her make up her mind.

"Very well, I'll do it."

"Yay!" squealed an excited Mei Lien.

"Yes, you," Lucius chuckled, his eyes dancing. "I suppose I shall have to ready your rooms then. What do you say to that?"

"Oh boy! I can't wait. Can we go now?"

"Now?" he laughed. "It will take some time to prepare. Lots of things need airing out a bit first." Truly, he mused, the whole place could do with a Scourgify, but he realized sagely that was now her department.

"We have things to do in our flat besides," said Hermione, completely confounded at how Lucius had won her little girl's heart. "We'll have packing to do, of course, and our lease is until the end of the week."

"There then, pet, how about Sunday next?" Lucius supplied, tugging a pigtail teasingly before looking over at Hermione for confirmation.

"Sunday's fine, yes."

"Very well, I'll see you then." With that, he rose and offered a hand. She took it to shake but then, purely on instinct, Lucius drew it to his mouth and brushed his lips across it. Hermione's breath caught slightly, shocked, before he released it. A corner of his mouth quirked as though he had just surprised even himself and just as quickly his face was again a mask of conciliatory politeness. He nodded once, turned onto the cobblestone walk, and disapparated, leaving Hermione rubbing her hand and wondering what exactly she had done.


	3. Chapter 3

Cht 3

"You're moving where?" Ron exclaimed, a wad of half-eaten sandwich still in his mouth. "Hermione, no way! What if it's a trick?"

"I think he's a little beyond that, Ronald," Hermione reasoned, as she guided a stack of books into an open box with her wand. She turned back to study her friend, perched comfortably on the edge of her kitchen counter. He was supposed to be helping pack, but true to form, he seemed to be helping empty her fridge instead. Harry, on the other hand, popped in from packing Hermione's office and leaned on the door frame long enough to weigh in on the subject.

"It's true he's not the same Malfoy he used to be," Harry said levelly. Then seeing Ron start to protest again, he raised his hand. "Mind you, he still works his way with the Ministry the same as he always has. But he's also realized that it is just more politically expedient these days to look like he's turned over a new leaf. Besides, Azkaban changed him. I can't even explain how, but from his parole hearing, I can tell you he's different somehow."

"You should have seen him with Mei Lien," Hermione chimed in. "As if he really enjoyed her company. He laughed, he threw her up on his shoulders, bought her cocoa…" Hermione trailed off, at a loss as to how to convey the new Malfoy she had witnessed. "It was unlike him at all. He even had the curses removed from that opal necklace."

"Well, he's had to, hasn't he?" Ron rejoined, taking another bite of sandwich. "We've been cracking down on all the pureblood families and all the old Voldy supporters for their Dark objects."

"He did say he was in a bind there," Hermione said. "No way to get rid of them except selling them to museums and such."

"Oh the laws are mad, they are," Ron acknowledged. "And it's madder yet the fly by night businesses that have cropped up since, taking advantage of the bind these people are in. Dad's been working overtime with the Law Enforcement office trying to put a stop to all the scams and cursed objects that have been streaming into the black market. Something's got to be done about it, and soon."

"You could have a regular cottage industry, Hermione," Harry piped up. "You and Neville both, it seems. The Averys and Yaxleys have him on retainer now, and in exchange Darien Yaxley has been helping to try to reverse the damage on his parents."

"He didn't take the job at Hogwarts then?" Hermione queried.

"Nah, he said he's not cut out for teaching. He's been doing work on landscaping, wizard style. He's doing a bang-up job on Snape's new potions garden."

"Where in blazes is Snape putting in a garden?" Ron asked. "There's no way he can do that in that piece of a back yard of his."

"Of course he can," smiled Harry. "That's the beauty of Neville's landscaping. It comes as a package deal with concealment charms for the Muggles. They think it's a regular summer garden. Besides, he bought the house next door before it could be demolished. Since it's terraced he's got an extra yard now to boot."

"Great," Ron said grudgingly, "that means more room for Curmudgeon to wreak havoc."

Ron was referring to Snape's kneazle, which Hermione had given him last Christmas. Snape was adamantly opposed to Hermione's well-meaning gift which she saw as a way to provide Snape with a partner for his solitude. Snape would have none of it, until he realized the ratty looking tom took pleasure in attacking Harry and Ron's legs when they least expected it. Much amused with his new pet, Snape ever so fondly named him Curmudgeon, for the cat was old and grizzled with patchy black fur that had long since faded to charcoal gray.

"Well, passing over that evil hellcat," Harry said tersely. "I think you're doing a brilliant thing, Hermione. You may be just what Mr. Malfoy needs. Or more particularly, Mei Lien is. She'll brighten anyone up." He looked over his shoulder at the girl who sat in the living room explaining to her dolls about the move and how they would have to go in a dark box for a short time until she could rescue them again.

"That she will," said Hermione, rubbing her forehead. "But oh, Ron you just reminded me—I never told Malfoy about Crookshanks!"

"Forget Crookshanks," said Ron, looking suddenly perplexed. "I wonder if Malfoy senior told Draco that you'll be living there…"

* * *

"You hired who?!" exclaimed Draco. He was not accustomed enough to his father nowadays to be certain Lucius Malfoy was not having him on. The younger Malfoy studied his father's features carefully. It was not often that Lucius stopped in to visit him in the tiny flat he shared with Goyle, and slowly but surely their visits were getting easier, but their conversations were still stilted and forced at times. This, clearly, was not one of those times.

"Hermione Bucktoothed Bloody Granger? The one who popped me one in fifth year?" he said aghast. Draco rounded the desk and perched on the edge of it to get a better look at his father, who sat back in the winged armchair now looking distinctly amused.

"Granger did that?" he said, a slow smile creeping into his eyes. "I believe you told me that Potter the Boy Wonder did it."

Draco huffed imperiously and crossed his arms. "Father," he said, avoiding the still touchy subject. "Have you gone round the bend?" Then looking as if this were actually possible, he added, "You're not still talking to portraits are you?"

It was Lucius' turn to look discomfited. "No I am not," he said, earning a disgraceful snort from Draco. He gave his son a sharp look, and then continued. "Granger is not only the most viable choice, but using her gives a bit of extra credence to the idea of my turning over a new leaf for the powers that be. My choice to use her will not go unnoticed, and can only help our situation. Besides," he added, "I quite enjoyed their company if you must know."

Draco said nothing, but raised an eyebrow. His father had come back from prison a different person from the one who had raised him. He did not know this new man and was not sure how to relate to him. His mind simply could not adjust to the paragon of pureblood sanctity conversing with and even going so far as to open his ancestral home to a…well, it did not suit to use that term anymore, but a _Muggle_, he thought.

"What about the girl?" Draco inquired. "You said she was a pureblood?"

"Yes," his father replied, resting his cheek on his hand. "Her name means lotus blossom, or some such. I looked it up. She's liable to brighten up the manor considerably. Something about all that chipper talking she does, reminds me of you at that age."

Draco's eyebrows shot into his hairline. He seemed to remember getting driven out of his father's study for his incessant "nattering" at a young age.

"Draco," Lucius said in measured tones. "I would appreciate it if you would come round for dinner Sunday evening to help welcome them both. I would appreciate it even more of course if you could remain civil as well."

"I suppose I can do that," Draco replied, then changing tactics, decided he may as well test the waters himself since his father was taking strides in trying to connect. "Do you mind if I bring someone?"

"Draco, if you mean Pansy I'd truly rather you di—" Lucius began, knowing that as bad as Draco's relationship with Hermione had been, Pansy and Hermione's had been worse.

"Not Pansy, Father," Draco interjected. "Blaise."

"Zabini?" he asked, casting his mind back for some story Draco may have told from his school days of any times Granger and Zabini may have butted heads. He could not think of one. "I suppose you may, as long as he understands that she and her daughter are welcome guests."

"He'll behave, Father." Draco promised, making a mental note to prep Blaise ahead of time.


End file.
